The Seven Year Itch
by MistressBeasley
Summary: Slightly AU. It's been 7 years since Annie first arrived at Langley. Although she and Auggie are an established couple, hurdles still present themselves. My attempt at portraying some of the challenges they may face. Expect angst, fluff, drama, and some swearing! Rated T for language. Hope someone enjoys.
1. Chapter 1

First attempt at CA fic! I'm hoping I do this justice…. Tall order though.

Reviews are most welcome!

Slightly AU, assuming an Annie/Auggie relationship (of course!)

* * *

Danielle wrapped an arm around her little sister's waist. "High school, Annie. Who'd have thought it would happen so damn quickly?"

Annie shot a whimsical grin toward her niece. Chloe ambled slowly among the racks of clothing, her attention focused entirely on the cell phone clenched firmly in her palm. Strands of fire engine hair continually fell in front of her face, despite Chloe's lazy attempts at keeping it organised behind her ear.

Annie patted her sister's hand reassuringly. "She'll be fine. She's strong."

Danielle sighed, removing her hand from Annie's waist to quickly check that Katia remained behind them. "Michael's not happy about the hair."

"You mean you're not happy about the hair." Annie caught Danielle's slight wince. "It's just hair, Danielle. Think of the positives; you'd not lose her in a crowd. Besides…" Annie gently fingered a cobalt sweater, almost certain it would work exceedingly well with her slate pantsuit. "… need I remind you about your red hair dye disaster when you found out Shawn Mitchell had a thing for redheads?" Annie winked at Danielle.

"God, d'y'know, I was hoping you'd forgotten about that!" She giggled, again making a quick sweep to ensure her daughters were still within speaking range. "That colour's nice on you."

Annie sighed, dropping her hand from the plush fabric. "We're not here for me, we're here for the girls, remember?"

"Well, Chloe's not interested unless it's black or features some obscure band and Katia's not interested unless she can get it dirty. Nothing feminine _at all_! I always thought we'd have enjoyable mother and daughter shopping trips, but instead I'm lumbered with two girls who just _don't_ like shopping." Exasperation began to raise her tone. "Surely that's not normal. I've often wondered if they've been replaced by demons or something."

Harsh. Annie smirked, laying a heavy hand on Danielle's shoulder. "Look. They're normal. They're good girls. Auggie's always saying so. In fact, I think he'd quite happily trade in his own niece. My god, Danielle, now _she's_ a complete and utter nightmare." Annie glanced over at Chloe, noting the tiny smile gently tugging her lips as her fingers flew at breakneck speed texting – what Annie assumed was – a guy.

Annie sighed. She'd mentioned Auggie. She could almost hear the questions forming in Danielle's mind, knowing it would only be a matter of seconds before the real conversation started.

She swallowed, allowing herself to quickly reminisce on the elaborate will they/won't they dance that she and Auggie performed for years. And now, seven whole years after he'd shown her around CIA headquarters at Langley, they were practically married.

They shared a house, a bed, a bathroom, a wardrobe; even a bank account. Annie still drove his car. Auggie still looped arms with her.

They were still in love.

Annie licked her lips, putting herself firmly in the here and now. She mustn't get too caught up in overanalysing it. What they had, she knew, was perfect.

Wasn't it?

Annie quickly turned away from Danielle; the evasion wasn't lost on her.

"Annie," she began. "Tell me to shut up or whatever, but are you two okay? I just thought, well, sensed, you two were a bit… frayed this morning? Edgy?"

"Danielle."

"Is it the girls? Katia can be a bit forgetful about where she leaves things, I hope – "

"Dani. Seriously? It's not you." Annie smiled, warmly. She _knew_ Danielle would have picked up on it. "We love having you visit. Auggie loves the girls. He's just stressed out, work, you know. Lots going on. I can't tell you about it either – hell, I don't think even I know all of it. Desk work is certainly a lot less involved that field work." Annie looped her arm into Danielle's, patting her hand – more for own reassurance. "And then all the drama buying the house, and he's still not totally confident in it yet. Plus, it's ten years since Iraq and I think he's just… trying to stay positive. I'm still not feeling great and I know he's worried about me. It's really just stress."

Danielle's furrowed brow lifted; a glint sparkled. "Have you taken a test?"

Annie froze. Blood pooled to her feet, an icy chill settling over her. Surely, she can't be. "But I'm so irregular anyway, I didn't even think…" She trailed off, turning away from Danielle. The past month's events clicked. The sickness, the lethargy, even the slight tightening of her waistband. It fit.

"Shit." She whispered, facing her sister. "I think I'm pregnant."

The whirlwind that was Annie Walker's head became a force five hurricane as Chloe slipped her hands around her aunt's shoulders and whispered: "He'd better propose now!"


	2. Chapter 2

She gently hugged herself against the frosty October air, waiting for the soft click of the front door to confirm her solitude. A cursory glimpse through the window set the time to 6:58. Wandering listlessly to the patio bench, she allowed herself to drop down and wrap the woolly blanket carelessly tossed on the arm rest around her shoulders. No doubt Danielle had stolen a few quiet moments earlier in order to speak with Michael, without added ears.

_Two lines. _

The moment that damned purple test line began to darken… _Jesus. _

_Two lines. Two stupid lines. _

_Two inconsequential lines. Two very consequential pregnancies. And yet…_

_Yet… No baby. _

A crescendo of giggles – Katia's shrill squeal and Danielle's hectic chortle – managed to permeate the exterior, briefly interrupting her train of thoughts, and Annie couldn't suppress the small smirk tugging the edges of her mouth. Genuine laughter was infectious, despite the murky memories desperately trying to drown her, and Annie was resolute in her determination to remain on the happier side of her thought process.

_No baby…_

Tears threatened behind her eyes and she exhaled loudly.

"God help me," she murmured.

Then the car arrived, and with it, Auggie.

_Her _Auggie.

She smiled as he emerged from the passenger side, deftly unfolding his cane before leaning down to offer the driver some return quip and a mock salute. More banter bounced between them before Auggie waved and closed the door, remaining still for a brief moment as he listened to the fading exhaust. He turned to the house, effortlessly falling into the regimented sweep/step march now honed with a decade of practice. Annie's shy smile momentarily widened, her own demons quashed by the close vicinity of the only man in her life to have ever truly penetrated her carefully constructed faҫade.

If only she were able to crush his, rather than break in brick by painful brick.

His wall was still very much intact, confirmed by the sudden falling away of the usual devil-may-care guise so often adopted for the ease of others. Instead, Annie watched as he squeezed his eyes shut and let out a pained sigh. A second chill coursed through her.

The timing couldn't be any worse.

She swallowed the bitter lump threatening to choke her up, she tried to quell the rancid memories crashing against the back of her skull. Failure was likely to take hold.

She noisily raised herself from the bench. "Hey," she croaked.

Auggie stopped, the grimace dissipating. "Welcoming committee?" He gingerly stepped toward her, free hand outstretched. Annie locked her fingers with his as he mounted the steps to the porch, allowing him to pull her into a softly powerful cuddle.

She inhaled him, wishing somehow he would just envelop her completely, pushing _baby_ firmly aside. As if on queue, Katia screeched.

"You've got a headache again," she whispered. "Don't dare _try_ to deny it."

Auggie slowly exhaled, his hand mindlessly caressing her spine. "Busted." The retort was shallow, his earlier humour having completely vanished. He pressed her closer to him.

The stinging returned again, prickling her eyes, her nose, her throat. _Damnit. _Annie blinked repeatedly, inhaling deeply to distract herself. Of course he would pick up on it.

"Annie? What's happened?"

Another deep breath and she pulled herself back, slightly, just to tilt her head toward his. Sheer desperation wished for eye contact; that silent communication between soulmates. She cupped his face in her hands, instead searching him for indication of his pain. Deep circles had painted themselves blue-black beneath his unfocused eyes, wayward curls threatened to mar his attempt to feign eye contact. She lifted herself on her toes to put a soft kiss to his lips, closing her eyes, feeling a wayward tear trickle away. That resolve was fast crumbling. "Remember, last time. Your headaches?"

He released her, confusion, misunderstanding clouding his face. "Annie, there's nothing – I mean, it's perfectly normal. We've spoken about all this before. I don't – I honestly don't –"

"When we saw your neurologist." She choked on the word: "The mis –"

"Annie."

Danielle cackled again, briefly breaking the nearly tensile atmosphere.

"The miscarriage." She watched his face collapse as the word tumbled out.

He quickly pulled her close again, tenderly kissing the top of her head. "It's going to be okay."

Annie scoffed into his shoulder. "Big bad CIA operative can quite happily topple the world's assholes but can't quite keep her own baby alive."

Silence. A second kiss, longer in duration, deeper in intensity, crowned her. She broke away from him, turning to face the road, not wanting to have to gauge his reaction.

_Out with it. _"I'm pregnant, Auggie." She maintained a steady focus on the yellow corona emanating from the streetlight over the road.

"How – I mean, when – how far along?"

Annie shrugged. "I _think_ about 10 weeks. Not very far. I'm going to the doctors tomorrow."

"Oh, Annie…" He paused, groping for her hand, squeezing her fingers. "Wow."

More laughter from inside the townhouse erupted, but died away just as easily. She parted her lips to speak but only a small squeak escaped. She swallowed and tried again. "But what if…"

Auggie stepped toward her, shaking his head. But Annie continued, desperate to put the unthinkable into words, to anchor it so destructively within him too. "…What if I can't –" His hand quickly found a path to her mouth, his thumb barely touching her lips, stopping her midsentence.

"Then we deal." He rested his cane on his chest, using his other hand to cup her face, forcing her to face him. He found the damp path caused by the rogue tear. "We do what we do best and we deal."

Annie rested her hands over his, nodding. He was right. He had to be right. She could deal. She had to. Perhaps his armour could encompass her, swallow up the uncertainty. Perhaps it was her turn to walk blindly into unfamiliar territory and turn it into home.

Another shrill shriek from Katia. Auggie nodded his head toward the door. "Sounds like they're having a good time at least."

"They found Monopoly. Well, I found it for them." She pulled his hands down from her face, once again breaking away from the comfort of his close proximity to gently shove the front door open. "I gotta' get back in. Show willing and all that."

"Do they know?"

Annie began to nod, but forced out a strangled Yes too. Her worst habit, still. She pulled the door open, relishing the indoor heat as it pricked at her skin. Auggie followed her, folding his cane and placing it on the small table beside the door.

He reached out for her, and she closed the distance. "I'm going to go out a limb here. Considering your family, I'm willing to bet, oh, a hundred bucks that it's a girl."

"I'm giving you such a dirty look."


	3. Chapter 3

AN: Thanks to those who have taken the time to review, it's very appreciated. But thank you as well to the silent followers, you're just as appreciated.

A warning: I've changed the rating from T to M, because of the content that occurs in this chapter – I can't NOT include it!

BTW, this story is assuming a relationship was formed after S3. For the record, I've yet to see S3 (bad, I know) but MaryAnn's articles on have given me a good idea of what went down.

Enjoy!

* * *

She rolled, stretching her hand toward him. Empty. Cold. No Auggie to snuggle into. The once consuming sleep fog dispersed relatively quickly; a gaudy 4:03 AM glared back from the alarm clock. She sighed, allowing herself to fall wearily to her back.

He seemed fine. _They_ seemed fine. Perfect, even. For a couple of hours, a respite from the worry had allowed her to sit back and enjoy time with Danielle, resulting in a re-cap of the more memorable moments of Danielle's birth experiences; it had allowed Auggie to teach Chloe and Katia how to escape a headlock, even though Katia insisted that Chloe would never _need_ to escape one.

And once he had pulled her into their bedroom, Auggie placed his palm firmly on her belly, simultaneously burying his face in her neck to inhale the scent he couldn't get enough of; hers. The pressure of his hand sparked the thaw needed to melt her earlier reserve, and her body capitulated to the ignition of the slow burn that only he could create… until their mutual energy had been discharged, fingers tangled in hair and mouths gaping in earnest.

But now, that fire had long since expired. She gingerly placed her hands on her tummy, willing the foetus to somehow acknowledge her, wishing too for his electric touch.

_He promised it'll be ok. _

Anne pulled herself from the sanctuary of their bed, and after robing herself incase the girls should be surreptitiously awake – stranger things and all that – she padded downstairs. The acrid sharpness of fresh coffee led her to the kitchen, where she spotted him facing the window. His fingers danced on the tile countertop, translating his current thoughts into a rhythmic code string too convoluted to decipher. A half empty cafetière stood next to him.

As expected, her presence caused a momentary lull in the cryptic tapping.

"You always know to save me some." Closing the distance to stand next to him, she poured the remaining coffee into his empty mug, savouring the heat in her palms against the night time chill. "I know your stance on excessive change, but penny?"

"Joan's successfully put in a recommendation for the new head of DPD." Both hands gripped the edge of the sink. "You're looking at him."

"Wow."

"Yeah," he breathed. "Wow, indeed. Thing is –"

Annie shook her head, knowing immediately where he was headed. "No, Auggie, you _can _do it. You're completely amazing in Tech Ops, yes. But head of DPD? You'd be… well, you'd be my boss. " She took his hand. "Sorta' kinky, no?"

He didn't take the bait. "That's the problem, Annie." He sighed. "I'd pull you out of field work."

She quickly withdrew her hand, stepping back as he reached for her. He flinched as she slammed the mug down. "Damn it, Auggie." She crossed the kitchen to close the door leading to the staircase. The last thing she needed was for Danielle or either of the girls to stumble upon _this_ argument; it never really ended well, but she was resolute in her determination to square up to him.

Whatever the fallout.

He directed his gaze toward the sound of the closing door. "It's only because of the baby."

_Baby. _It cut her. How can he not understand it? She skirted the kitchen island, creating a barrier between them. "Oh, look, a novel excuse." She scoffed, careful of her pitch. She folded her arms, knowing that body language was absolutely useless at conveying her feelings, yet she needed the illusion of armour. "You think because Joan wouldn't agree to pull me out before that you can suddenly waltz into her shoes and kick me out entirely?"

"No," He inhaled, maintaining control. "No one's kicking you out of anything."

Annie swallowed, bile rising.

He raked his hands through his hair. "I care about you. I don't trust anyone else to look after you. Especially now."

She shook her head. Pregnancy was irrelevant. "I understand that I won't be allowed to wander halfway around the world chasing terrorists but I can quite easily carry out operations, here, on US soil. Intelligence gathering. Gaining assets, trust, it's what I'm _good_ at and I won't stop. It didn't stop me before and it won't stop me now. Joan understands that."

Auggie turned away, beginning to pace, trailing his hand against the countertop. "Annie, things will change. Once your sister goes home, once you're back from vacation, once you declare you're pregnant…" He trailed off, turning back to her. "Regardless of _my _position, there's protocol. It's not _me_ kicking you out."

She squeezed her eyes shut. Damn him, damn her. She should have waited, given the baby chance to make the decision for her: to stay, to go, to announce its existence for her. Let him find out when it's pouring out between her legs. Like last time… when losing that baby was the icing on a massive fucking cake of one damned screw up after another. "Since when did you become the poster boy for protocol? Auggie, I distinctly remember sitting in a doctor's office, with _you_, because you nearly got your ass blown up in a blatant _dis_regard for protocol!"

He pinched the bridge of his nose. "Trying to stop you getting killed."

She opened her mouth to carry on the reproach, lay the final barb… but then, no. He flogged himself every morning; when sunshine radiated onto their pillow, streaming through the crystal chime she suspended from the curtain rail, sending rainbows dancing around the room. It was just another reminder that his darkness was ever present, and would carry on being so.

She'd caused enough damage.

"Auggie?" Her voice quivered, her hands fell to her sides. Jesus, trading blows with the man she purported to love in some sick game of one-upmanship? "That whole thing, I'm –"

"No, Annie, don't you _ever _apologise for my decisions." He stepped toward her, hand out, misjudging and hitting the corner of the kitchen island, fumbling for orientation. She lunged to help. "Damn this house. One day…"

She wrapped her arms around him, feeling the frustration slowly ebb from his spine as he held her closer. It was time, now. This moment, as their vulnerability was swimming at their feet. Instinct prepared her to say the words. It couldn't let her lie any more, to him, to herself. Their feeble skirmishes at skirting the truth have repeatedly culminated in blood; his, hers, an innocent child's. "I didn't want it." She paused, breathing to steady her voice. "I didn't tell you because I didn't… want… you to want it. When I didn't."

He nodded, exhaling a steady kiss on her head.

She pulled back to stare into his eyes. "Until I miscarried. Then I wanted nothing more."


	4. Chapter 4

"Asshole." She breathed, quickly downshifting to slow the car. "That's what signs are for, to _read!_"

Next to her, Chloe giggled, while Annie could feel Danielle's recriminating glare boring into the back of her head – a double check in the rear view mirror only confirmed it.

Annie shrugged. "Do people _not_ have places to be?" She slowed again – not having been cut up – to take a ticket for the airport parking lot. Parking the car and emptying it of people and a week's worth of luggage was relatively simple; certainly far less complicated than the dreary drive down.

Chloe slipped her arm through Annie's, rolling her eyes as Danielle ushered a reluctant Katia toward the terminal entrance. "I think he will ask, y'know, for you to marry him." She yanked her phone from the back pocket of her black jeans. "He's even promised to text me. Just incase you forget to call. Or Mom forgets to tell me."

Annie chuckled, tossing her niece a coy grin. "Nice to know. But I can assure you, _if_ Auggie did propose, I'd not forget to tell you." She winked. "Besides, retribution would taste so sweet if I had you wear some pink bridesmaid meringue… thing." She paused next to Danielle, sweeping the departure board for their plane details.

_On time._

Thank god, she thought. Digging in her purse for spare change, she turned to the girls, offering more than enough cash. "You got a couple hours. Grab yourselves something to drink."

Chloe gave a doleful look before shoving her sister off toward the newsstand.

Danielle met her sister's eyes. "Promise me you'll let me know how today goes."

Annie nodded, looking to the floor. "I hope it's okay."

Danielle smiled. "Lots of women have a very successful first scan." Her face softened. "You guys need to talk. Long and hard. You can get through it. It's just a rough patch, Michael and I had our fair share."

Annie scoffed. "Hardly think _he's _a…" She trailed off, grimacing. "Sorry. That was insensitive."

Danielle smiled, though Annie didn't miss the dart of pain in her eyes. "Funny how since all this divorce stuff, we're actually getting on rather well." She shrugged, turning away on the pretence of checking the girls. Annie saw right through it.

"I'm here, you know. Anytime. You and girls can always stay if you need to. Least we have the room now."

Danielle pulled Annie into a deep hug. "I love you. The girls love you." She paused. "And Auggie loves you. So much, Annie."

At the mention of his name, she bit her lip, squeezing Danielle that little bit tighter. The din from the milling throngs of people grew quieter as the words formed on her lips. "I truly don't get why…" She pulled back, forcing herself to look Danielle in the eye. "I killed the last shred of hope he had."

"I somehow doubt that. Anyway. You need to run. Talk to him, you two need to find your grove again, or something along those lines."

She pulled Danielle in for one last cuddle, still feeling that old safety net wrapping itself around them; a part of her still wanted to hang on to it. Moving out to California had crossed Annie's mind more than once, especially after those terrible dark weeks which followed the Smithsonian bombing… _No, don't go there. _Annie forced it out, that particular demon shunned – even if only momentarily.

The drive to Georgetown was uneventful, she remained firmly stuck in autopilot, her head a swelling vat of shattered glass, broken screams, and that ever present roaring crack of white light and pyretic smoke. And that demon recapitulated, again and again…

_No, don't go there…_

She forced herself through the entrance doors into the hospital lobby, but she wasn't seeing the hospital, it was the museum… and all those children. As she marched toward Obstetrics, Annie was not only seeing the explosion in her head, but was now feeling it remarkably well deep in her gut; fire pulled at the lining of her stomach and snaked out. Her hands flew to her abdomen, instinct taking over.

A child lay within; _her _child, Auggie's child. She silently willed it to take root, to remain within. _Focus, Walker. _That voice, it calmed her, he could always calm her. She had learned to hear him in crisis. _Tell me what you see…_

To the Auggie inside her head, she replied: An innocuous reception desk and some chick with far too much makeup on. Steeling herself, she took a breath, approaching reception. "Annie Walker. Traffic was a _nightmare, _I hope –" But she was cut off, the azure of eyes of the receptionist popping under heavy kohl.

"No, you're fine, we're running a bit late." She nodded toward the waiting area. "Your husband's already waiting, take a seat and the doctor will be with you shortly."

Annie couldn't stop the grin from spreading. _Your husband_… even still, the phrase slid over her like silk, cloaking that last piece of vulnerability she still harboured about their relationship. Clinging to it desperately, she approached and – not missing his own sly grin – took his hand as she sat down. Maybe this was it, perhaps the precipice had been avoided; they weren't going to tumble down into oblivion quite so soon.

"Free at last?" He quipped, squeezing her hand.

She nudged him with her elbow, glancing about the room. Rows of pamphlets stared back at her: Your Labour, Breastfeeding Your Baby, Your Baby's Development … Magazines littered the tables: Mother & Baby, Good Parenting… Photographs of happy mothers with perfect hair holding their far too smiley babies covered the walls and Annie felt that odd fire return as it dawned on her that she was here because she was pregnant. Again. And she couldn't pretend that it would all end happily ever after. There was no safety net between her legs.

She felt his fingers walking along her back as he pulled her close, burying his lips in her hair. "Whatever happens, I'm here." Those very same words she had whispered into his fingertips moments before their long sojourn into hell and back. Annie wanted to pull away, run free, but he held firm. "You know you can't hide in the ladies'."

"I know," she murmured, allowing a small chuckle at the long running joke between them. "'Boundary' isn't in your vocabulary." Blinking back tears, she inhaled deeply. "Whatever happens."

And before he could even reply, her name was called. He guided her out of the seat, his grip firm on her elbow, the necessity not entirely his this time; if he let go, she feared she'd turn and walk out. _What if it's dead, what if it's not there, what if I start to bleed…_ The churning inside her head Annie was certain he could hear.

Smiling shakily at the doctor, she led him inside the office, delicately forcing Auggie's hand to the arm of a chair. She sat next to him, staring at the male doctor. She didn't even wait for Auggie to finish folding his cane before the words tumbled out of her mouth: "I lost it, last time. I don't think I –" Breathe. "I don't think it'll stick." Each letter assaulted her and she glanced at Auggie – prepared to see his stoicism; unnerved as he squeezed his eyes shut and dripped his head.

"I'm Dr. Leonard, Anne," The doctor smiled warmly. "And there is no reason as to why you won't carry a perfectly healthy baby into full term."

That logical half knew he was right, and expected the answer. Yet that other half, that insecure half, which was still clinging to the silk threads of Auggie as a husband, couldn't fathom it. Her body had let her down. She was Annie Walker, the bad-ass spy who was incapable of something as biologically critical as keeping a baby. "But – oh."

Dr. Leonard continued, flipping up pages from Annie's file. "You were under a severe amount of stress, emotionally and physically. I understand you were involved in the Smithsonian bomb, which was, no doubt, extremely traumatic. Unfortunately, nature decided its course." He placed the file down and offered another warm smile. "However, considering your age and your lifestyle, I'd say your chances are very favourable."

She opened her mouth to speak, but her tongue was lost somewhere amidst the jumble of emotion as she processed what was being said. She felt Auggie's fingers brushing her thigh and she distantly heard him speaking to the doctor – the male doctor, and she had to ask why so many men chose to become gynaecologists - but the only movement came from her hand as she offered her palm… to the father of her baby.

The implications stormed throughout: work, Joan, missions. And she remembered Auggie's news from a few days ago and their – her – harsh words. He'd ground her from field work. _Regardless of my position, _his raspy baritone words thundered, _there's protocol…_

Annie snapped back to the present, forcing herself to absorb the doctor's words: they'll take blood, an ultrasound scan will be performed to measure exactly how far along she was.

She nodded her head. Auggie squeezed her hand.

Annie Walker was carrying their child.


	5. Chapter 5

Thanks if you're still reading! Sort of lost my muse as of late... so not too sure what's in store for this one. Hopefully it'll come to me. Let me know of any thoughts xx

"It's a bean." She laughed aloud, again, infected by good news. "Tiny little bean." She pulled herself closer to him as he unlocked the front door. "Another 8 weeks or so and you'll hear the heartbeat."

"Seems an eternity."

She turned into him, her mouth inches from his, stopping his hand on the door. "Wait." She searched his face for clues, for any hint of his own uncertainty – did it match hers, even slightly?

He deadpanned, his eyes seeming to search for her. "For what?"

Annie hesitated, inhaling as his palm lightly cupped her cheek; his touch igniting that familiar buzz deep within. "Nothing." She closed her eyes momentarily, feeling him move – feeling her body rising, hearing his cane clamour recklessly beneath her and she squealed his name as Auggie lifted her into his arms. His chest was taught against her thigh, and she breathed him in, not restraining the giggle escaping her lips as he kicked open the front door and brought her inside. She shrieked his name again as she had to duck to avoid bashing her head against the doorjamb.

"Welcome home, Miss Walker. And baby Walker." He grinned at her, his smile matching hers.

"Care to explain why you nearly decapitated me?"

"I figured you were itching to ask me to carry you over the threshold. Because I'd rather now than say, six months from now?"

"Ass." Her forehead touched his and she wrapped her arms around his neck, bringing his mouth to hers, biting, teasing, wanting more than anything to crush him into her; the desire for consumption overwhelming rationality. She slid down his body as his grip on her loosened, and as her feet touched the floor, she allowed her body to carry on falling. Her hands flew to his tie, tugging gently as she stretched her body on the floor, guiding him with her hands and mouth. Fingers trailed up beneath her blouse, his feather touch and the cold October air erupting her body in gooseflesh.

"The front… door… is wide… open." He managed to murmur between kisses.

Annie threw her weight into his, forcing him beneath her. "I'll get it." She pulled back with every intention of closing the door, but found herself giving in to the sudden overwhelming desire to drink in his face, to study each delicate contour, to imprint this moment on her mind for eternity.

He raised himself on his elbows, "What? What's wrong?"

She shrugged, trying to merge his face with hers. "I was wondering who baby will look like. If I, y'know. Carry."

He sighed heavily; he sat bolt upright, gently cupping her face in his hands, resting his forehead against hers, the delicacy of his touch an antithesis to his strength. "Stop torturing yourself."

Annie scoffed, the irony not completely lost. "You're a fine example." She blinked ferociously, eyelashes growing damp. She inhaled, but the tears made her breath shaky, and he pulled her closer.

"Whatever happens, Annie." He whispered.

"You'll stay?" She pleaded. "With me? Even if I-" She shook her head. "I'm sorry…" Annie turned toward the front door. _His cane, don't leave it outside. _

"I don't blame you, you know."

Annie froze, dipping her gaze to the floor. _Get up and get it, Walker! _

"Please. Annie. It happened, yes. Mourn, grieve. In whatever way you need to."

She shook her head, quickly trying to stand. She halted as he clumsily groped for her hand.

"Annie."

She inhaled, levelling her stare at him. A fresh wave of tears burned inside her nose and she slumped, blinking quickly as his face distorted. "Auggie…" She pleaded, pulling out of his grasp and turning her palms up, ready for crucifixion. "I ruined everything. I-" She paused, inhaling in strength. "I left you… but because I had to try to stop him. Auggie, those children. If you saw.." She swallowed. "… their faces and I couldn't just wait for backup. Because what if… what if one of those children had been ours? Auggie, I had to try… no one else was… he was going to strap bombs to them and I-" A fresh sob erupted as he tried to pull her close, but her arms flew up, blocking him. She inhaled a deep, shaky breath before continuing: "I knew you'd be pissed, I was prepared for that. But I had to try, I _had_ to disarm him. But I just… I didn't think you'd come after me. Auggie, I thought you'd stay and-"

"And what? Twiddle my thumbs while you - " A momentary flash crossed his face – she recognised the anger, the frustration, but there was shame to. "Jesus. Annie, how the hell could I sit back while you throw yourself hell for leather at that - a god-damn crazy-ass…_ terrorist_… set on…" He trailed off, exhaling.

Annie choked on another sob, letting the air fall heavy between them. She found the words necessary for cutting through it. "It's not just the baby, Auggie."

He narrowed his eyes, his face softening as he pieced her words together. "I know you saw-"

"It's you." A pause. "Auggie…" She reached out, fruitlessly; the attempt was entirely lost on him. "…the complications, the headaches, because of that bomb, and it's all my-"

"No, no, no! Stop." He quickly closed the distance, his fumbling desperate as he sought her, and his grip on her hand, when he finally found her, was fierce. "No. Annie Walker, don't you ever – _ever – _finish that sentence." His breathing became short, ragged; desperation chipped at his delicately constructed faҫade. She felt his hands clumsily climb to either side of her face, and her scalp buzzed as his fingers laced themselves throughout her hair. "I was blinded long before you, before Cooper and… and that's…" He swallowed. "It's not going to change, Annie."

"But Sheraton, he said there was-"

"Let's not go down that road." He whispered, resting his forehead against hers.

She entwined her fingers through his. "But I'd-"

"You'd suggest we go get a beer, I know, but…"

Annie couldn't suppress a small chuckle, however strained.

"I love you," He whispered, gently bringing her close. "Today. Tomorrow."

She felt herself – she allowed herself – to go limp against him, melting amidst the emanating tenderness, and she carefully wrapped her arms around his neck. "You dropped your cane outside."

"Kill the moment, Walker."


	6. Chapter 6

Hope you enjoy. Thanks again to those who've reviewed. I hope to have the next part up relatively soon. Hope someone's still reading! x

* * *

"Hey," she answered, nestling her phone precariously with her shoulder.

"Hey, you."

Just two words and his fatigue was palpable, causing her to wince. "Any sign of wrapping up? You're missing some really lame TV."

"Cursèd blindness, how do I live without late night TV?" He sighed heavily in her ear. "No sign of release yet, I'm afraid. Gutierrez is officially MIA. Joan's about ready to bust the proverbial nut."

Annie inhaled. "I should be out there, Auggie."

A pause. "No, you shouldn't. I'm on it. You've just got to resume desk duty at 0900 hours tomorrow."

Annie shook her head, sitting up. "Forget Joan's proverbial ball-sack, Gutierrez is the needle in the proverbial haystack. He's no doubt-" Her stomach pitched, cutting her off. "Oh god." She moaned.

"Either that's more nausea or you realised you've left yourself wide open for one of my infamous blind jokes."

She rolled her eyes, inhaling deeply.

"Just breathe, Annie."

"Come home to me soon." She murmured. "I gotta' go lay down."

"I'll see you soon." He said gently.

After ending the call, Annie forced herself up from sofa. The incessant nausea and near-incessant sickness losing its appeal – how on earth is pregnancy meant to be enjoyable?

She padded upstairs to the bedroom, and after kicking her slippers off, managed to crawl into Auggie's side of the bed, burying her head into his pillow. _Just breathe,_ _Annie,_ he repeated within and she inhaled him.

She'd rest first, then pick up the slippers…

Filling her lungs with Auggie, she permitted herself succumb to sweet oblivion… and then her eyelids were lead; she needed to blink a few times to allow her brain to register the dull blue-grey gloom around her. Refusing to acknowledge what felt like an abrupt end to her nap – had she actually slept? – Annie groaned and turned to the clock:

5:04AM.

AM. Morning.

_Shit._ She sat bolt upright, fighting a sudden wave of nausea. Futile. She jumped from the bed, lunging for the toilet as she entered the small ensuite bathroom. She just about managed to pull her hair away before her stomach contracted, once, twice, three times and Annie dry-heaved.

Her eyes welled with tears; the lack of a warm hand on her back was painfully apparent.

Then the guilt waltzed through and hand in hand her self-pity, provided the whip for her self-flagellation: Auggie's once again spent nearly 24 hours working miracles for his – their – livelihood, running on adrenaline and caffeine, no doubt battling a crippling headache, while she's feeling sorry for herself because she's forced to hold her own hair.

She remembered that migraine he developed the day after the move, and the cruelty that particular headache imposed on him.

He's carrying on, carrying her, while she's crumbling left, right and centre. Who's got his back?

Annie Walker pushed away from the toilet and stared hard at herself in the bathroom mirror.

At 7:23AM, Annie placed a streaming paper cup on Auggie's desk. "Your 9, double shot. Black." Then she pressed a small box into his hand. "Advil."

He pressed at his keyboard and lowered his headphones. When he turned to her, she saw the relief. "Annie. I could kiss you right now." Then, "How you feeling? How's the nausea?"

Annie crouched low, placing her hands on his knees for leverage. "I'm OK. I just –" She gazed up at her Auggie, drinking in the day old stubble, the shadows under his eyes, the headache knotting his forehead, the dryness of his lips. "I just –" She felt the familiar biliousness again and exhaled. "I just love you." She murmured. "I've been an idiot lately."

Auggie shook his head, gently stroking her fingers with one hand while locating his coffee with the other. "Not idiotic. Pregnant." He sipped. "There's a difference."

She offered a wan smile at his attempt to lighten her mood. "I worry I'm wearing you down."

He shook his head at her. "No, Annie. You're –" A pause. "Hold up, phonecall –" He let go of her hand to touch his earpiece. "Anderson."

Annie glanced up at his screen, noting the extensive code displayed; a frenzied mess of hashtags, backslashes and bizarre half sentences. She shook her head. He'd tried, briefly, to introduce her to the wonders of "languages" he was fluent in, yet her linguistical prowess just didn't stretch far enough.

She felt him tense, and she directed her stare back to him.

"Helen. Christ. Long time." A pause. "No shit. How are you? What time is –" Auggie sought her fingers again, squeezing. "What? You're there? No, I – we – moved. Why didn't you –"

Annie pulled her hands away, raising herself up to perch on his desk. She folded her arms. _Helen. _Who the hell was Helen? What sordid part of his history did she belong to?

He continued, his tone as placating to the invisible woman on the phone as it had been with Annie. "Helen. Hang fire. It's OK. I'll text you the address. I'll be home in about an hour." Another pause. "No, it's fine. I'll see you soon. Drive safe."

Silence.

Auggie sighed and sank bank into his chair. Then he leaned forward, and started typing. Their address. He was texting their address.

Annie just stared at him. Incredulity slapped her. "Auggie? Planning on asking me before inviting women over to _our_ house?"

He grimaced, and he began gingerly massaging his temple. "Helen's my sister."

She retched. She bolted for the ladies.


	7. Chapter 7

She was silent when she returned from another – miserably lonely - vomiting session.

She was silent as he exited Joan's office.

"I told her you'll drive me home." He murmured, finding her arm.

She was silent as she guided him from the building.

She refused to speak as she dropped his hand to the hood of the car. "Annie?" He pleaded.

Only when she shut the door and put the keys into the ignition did she turn to him. "You have a sister."

He sighed. "Yes."

Annie started the car, shoving the gear stick into reverse with more force than necessary, relishing the jagged, granular gnashing of gear teeth. Peripherally, she saw Auggie wince at the sound.

"You never told me." She muttered, slightly more sulkily than intended.

"I don't like to talk about my family." No hesitation. He spoke quickly, without pausing to think, analyse, interpret. Such open candor, without resistance, was rare.

However, those point-blank answers also indicated his aversion to the subject.

She pummeled the car into first. "But I met Liam. And his daughter. You talked about them."

"I think you'll recall that he also showed up on my doorstep."

Annie snorted, nodding in agreement as she remembered Liam's desperation over his estranged daughter's incarceration in a DC jail, and his pathetic begging for Auggie's help – which turned out to be a need for cash, of course.

Second and third gear were far more fluid. "Is Helen like him?"

"No." His reply was instantaneous. He closed his eyes and leaned back; a lousy attempt to disguise the anguish so readily evident in the stark white knuckles as he held his cane, the rigidity of his back, the pull of the tension on his forehead… all these tiny, miniscule clues Annie constantly had to search for to read him.

"Do you not like her?" She pressed, swallowing repeatedly as another bout of nausea coursed up into her throat.

"Of course I do, she's my baby sister."

Annie exhaled loudly, willing the sickness to pass. She gulped.

"You OK?" He asked, his fingers brushed her thigh.

She nodded, swallowing again. "Nausea. Anyway." Annie hesitated, before diving in. "So tell me. About Helen. "

He sighed. "I love Hen – that's her nickname, by the way. Lovingly bestowed on her by Grace."

"The same Grace who's got a criminal record?"

"No, that's Gloria who went to jail. Grace is Cale's daughter. Cale's the eldest."

Annie sighed. "I'm going to need you to draw me up a diagram or something. There are just too many of you."

"Helen's the artistic one. She'll make it look damn pretty."

"Is she married? Kids?"

Auggie scoffed. "She's gay, Annie. One reason she went half way around the world. Trying to escape the perpetual scorn from our parents. It didn't help their social standing to have their only daughter so brazenly out of the closet. Especially in a place like Glencoe. Naturally, she never really conformed to the whole Glencoe prom queen bullshit thing, which of course just pissed off Mom and Dad."

Annie filed the implications of his confession away. "Hardly the crime of the century."

He inhaled a shaky breath. "You're a lot like her."

She shot her gaze to him, briefly, and despite the distraction of the traffic around them, and her need to focus on everything else _except_ Auggie, his words thrashed those last few scraps of skepticism leftover since the discovery of Helen.

He was really trying to open up to her. About his family, nonetheless.

"In a good way, I hope." She mused.

"Definitely." She could hear the smile in his voice. "She's not afraid of anything."

Slowing the car down to seep into the morning rush hour, she waited.

"Helen's the baby. The poor girl had her work cut out for her, being subjected five older brothers. She learned how to fight." He chuckled. "In the Anderson kids' food chain, she was the bottom. But as we grew up, things changed, we matured."

"Danielle and I were like that. Hated each other as kids."

"She's quite the hippy. She was so disgusted with this country that she upped sticks and emigrated. First to France, then Britain, eventually settling near the sea somewhere. Owns her own little store selling her art. Made a point of not coming home for the holidays or anything like that. I think she finally found her little niche."

"You ever go out to visit?"

He shook his head. "No. Helen's asked me, a few times. Hell, even Joan's suggested I go decompress out there."

"But?" Annie suggested.

"But nothing. Just never happened."

Annie glanced back at him, catching the shadow of some repellent thought. She opened her mouth to enquire further, but refrained – a second cursory glimpse confirmed the window of opportunity had indeed passed.

Instead, he continued: "I read her in, not long after my accident. She didn't take it too well."

Annie nodded, wholly understanding of the predicament; she hadn't forgotten her own experience reading Danielle in. "But you did fix it out, didn't you? I hope you're not telling me you've not spoken to your sister in like 10 years?"

She caught his wince from the corner of her eye – whether at the truth of her statement, or the proclamation of a decade of blindness – she wasn't sure. She bit her lip, casting another furtive glance his way.

A half smile played on his lips. "Of course we fixed it. Well, she fixed it mostly. She's too much of a control freak not to."

Annie gently laughed. "Sounds like she and I will get along swimmingly."

"Trust me Walker, that's not what I'm worried about."

Annie considered his statement, placing her hand on his knee briefly. "What is it, then?"

"That you'll want to meet the rest of my family."

Annie opened her mouth, more than willing – and more than ready – to assent. But at that very moment, just as they were on the precipice of a very welcome discussion, his damn phone rang.

And a lengthy discussion with Barber ensued; at least Auggie was adamant about staying home.

By the time he hung up, the car was approaching their home. The conversation was entirely out of the window.

Pulling into their driveway, Annie spotted the silver Taurus parked near the house; by the time she'd parked, Helen was waiting on the passenger side, giddy with excitement. Annie warned Auggie as he exited, who just rolled his eyes and succumbed to an encompassing bear hug.

Helen was beautiful, Annie couldn't deny it. Tall, and willowy, her lithe frame was draped in a long, chunky sweater and floor length skirt. Her chocolate hair, fixed with the same manic wave as Auggie's, was haphazardly piled atop her head, decorated with a plum coloured flower. As Annie stood up, Helen trotted around the hood of the car and embraced her too.

"Oh wow," She gushed, releasing and holding Annie at arm's length. "It's so lovely to _finally _meet you." Although genuinely American, Annie detected the faint peppering of English pronunciation in her speech, which added to her helter-skelter, erratic charm. Helen retreated back to her car, draping a small duffel bag over her shoulder. "Hope you've got milk, I've brought you some proper tea. And a teapot."

"Never a fan of the tea, Hen, you know that." Auggie mused, draping his bag across his chest, cane extended, beginning his journey to the house. Without missing a beat, Helen reached his side and casually brushed her hand against his, undertaking the role of sighted guide without hesitation or aversion.

His brother had been unwilling, or incapable, of even asking.

Annie paused, watching the pair approach the house, Helen giving Auggie a blow-by-blow account of her journey to the airport at home – apparently there was an incident involving a deer – and the hassles inherent with international travel. Annie smiled.

Then a cold shiver passed over her as the contents of her stomach reached her throat. Annie beat a hasty retreat into the house, excusing herself profusely as she ran inside.

She barely heard Auggie's joke about his culinary skills.

Sorry it's taken so long - hectic few weeks, culminating in a brick through my car window. Not impressed!

Hope those reading enjoy, and thank you for the kind reviews so far, they're very appreciated.


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